


Fury

by Mottled_System



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dominant Kylo Ren, F/M, Foreplay, Intimidation, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Loss of Virginity, Mind Reading, Mocking, Name-Calling, Orgasm, POV Second Person, Roughness, Sexual Inexperience, Simultaneous Orgasm, Submissive Reader, Virginity, size queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23585407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mottled_System/pseuds/Mottled_System
Summary: As a stormtrooper assigned to the medbay, you're sent to bring supplies to someone who does not seem happy to receive you. After you mess up just a bit too much, he furiously kicks you out. After you discover it was none other than Kylo Ren, you have no idea how or why he didn't kill you, as the rumors would suggest he is wont to do. After you're repeatedly forced into one another's company, though, you come to suspect he might be as strangely attracted to you as you are to him.
Relationships: Ben Solo & Reader, Ben Solo & You, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren & Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren & You, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/You, Ben Solo/Reader, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren & Reader, Kylo Ren & You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 3
Kudos: 91





	1. The First Encounter

Every day and night is largely the same. You rise for roll call, eat, shower. You begin the day’s duties- for you, that means sanitizing the med bay and all of its plentiful equipment, then taking stock of its supplies. You break for lunch, then resume duties; delivering needed supplies where they need to be, receiving and sending shipments, and whatever else is needed that day. Dinner. Roll call. A precious hour of free time. Lights out.

One afternoon, however, you’re sent to a private chamber with a kit full of supplies and instructed to offer any assistance necessary. You’re trained in first aid, of course- everyone in the med bay is, in case of emergency- but you are a bit puzzled as to why you, of all people, are sent for this task.

You knock on the entrance to the chambers and wait for a response, but hear nothing. Feeling a small shiver of anxiety rush up your spine, you double check that you’re at the right place and knock again. No response.

“Damnit,” you hiss, torn between returning to your supervisor and entering the all-access med bay code in case of medical emergency. After all, if the supplies you were sent with were any indicator, it was entirely possible that whoever this was might not be capable of opening the door. “ _ Damn _ it,” you say again, and reluctantly type it in. The chamber doors slide open with a mechanical hiss. “Med bay, sent for medical assistance,” you call in. No response. Clenching your jaw, you enter. “Are you in-”

A shirtless man stalks out of the bedroom just as the large door closes and locks behind you. You jump slightly at the suddenness of him, the size, and- the intensity. He’s easily over six feet tall, shoulders as broad as you’ve ever seen, with unruly hair and fierce, commanding eyes. He scowls at you for a long time, as if waiting for an explanation. Your eyes dart down to the slash across his chest, looking like a shallow but painful scorch. You’re both still and silent for a long time as uncertainty, anxiety, and dread settle over you. “I don’t need assistance.” His voice is agitated and matter-of-fact.

“Sir,” you begin. “With all due respect, my orders-”

“I don’t really care about your orders,” he responds. He’s not being malicious or threatening, but something about his gaze, his tone, his stance, puts you very on edge.

And you have no idea how to respond to that. He may not care, but you have to follow your orders. “Sir, if I don’t execute my commands, I could be terminated- and you do clearly have a wound. Please, just let me clean and bandage it.”

His eyes narrow as he appraises you, considering. You’re almost surprised he doesn’t just bark at you to leave. You are grateful, though; your supervisor has never been particularly forgiving, but she had been itching for an excuse to terminate you for some time. “You have five minutes.”

You can’t withhold a brief sigh of relief, then flush slightly and scurry over to him. You glance at the sofa to the right of him, but he doesn’t budge, just stares at you impassively. Muttering mentally, you set the kit down on a side table beside it and rummage through it for gloves before getting to work.

He doesn’t make a single noise or flinch once, but you can see his jaw working the entire time. Close up to him, it’s hard not to be flustered touching his bare, muscular torso, or notice how attractive his chiseled, masculine face is. You feel like a fool; here is this absolute stranger, brusque and angry and rude, and you’re noticing that now? He takes a long breath in and you glance up at him to see him staring directly at you, eyes boring into you. Shaken, you falter, and he hisses as your nail scratches the edge of his wound.

“S-sorry,” you stutter, quick to stop the bleeding. When you’ve fixed your mistake, you continue on.

You’re almost finished when he lets out a noise halfway between a sigh and a snarl. “It’s been seven minutes.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you said. “I’m almost finished.”

He grabs your hands and you look up at him. He looks like his temper is barely contained. “I gave you ample time, and let you go over even after you proved yourself incompetant. Get out.”

“Please,” you say again, voice shaking. “If I’m terminated-”

He drops your hands, then says, “You seem to deserve it,” in a steely, cold voice.

You look up at him as a fury floods you, and your hand twitches before you control your urge to slap him. His eyebrows raise, face exuding the same indignant anger you feel, and he takes a step closer. Your fury gives way to a panicked, confused defensiveness and you propel several feet backwards. Thanks to his height, it still feels like he’s looming over you. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

What an entitled question. He seems further enraged by your momentary silence before you respond: “No, sir, I don’t.”

He comes towards you and you instinctively back up again, your back pressing itself against the cold metal of the chamber door. This time, he’s all but snarling at you like an angered wolf, and leaning down with those fiery eyes staring through yours into your soul. “Get out,” he says. “And be thankful you’re leaving in one piece.” He slams his hand on the opening pad and you scurry out of the room as soon as you can, breathing heavily.

You didn’t even grab the kit. Your supervisor is going to be  _ furious _ .


	2. A Fearful Return

Much to your surprise, your supervisor is nowhere to be seen when you return empty-handed and thoroughly shaken. Quite grateful for that as well as the neat to-do list left at your station, you finish your tasks and leave for dinner.

“Hey,” you whisper to a fellow trooper, a girl around your age in your sect who you’re moderately friendly with. She looks at you, intrigued. “You were in yesterday’s battle, weren’t you?”

Her eyes flash with something before she suppresses it. “Yes, why?”

“Did you happen to see one of ours get- burned? A slash across his chest?”

Her brows raise, and an interested smile forms. “Um, yeah. Commander Ren.”

You blink. You’ve heard of him before- of course- but you know little. “He’s, uh, got a bit of a temper, doesn’t he?”

She laughs quietly, then glances around the two of you. “You could say that.”

You swallow, chewing your lip for a long moment. “I was sent to treat him, and he barely let me help, then threw me out before I could finish. I’m terrified I’m going to be terminated.”

She seems surprised at your words. “He actually let you help him?  _ Touch _ him?”

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug.

“And he got mad at you and  _ didn’t _ kill you?”

You feel your soul fall into a lump in your stomach. “Does he do that often?”

Seeing your pale face and panicked eyes, she backpedals. “Not… That I’ve seen,” she says. “He’s- just- got a temper, like you said.”

You look down at your food, silent.  _ Get out, _ his words echo in your head.  _ And be thankful you’re leaving in one piece _ .

_ You seem to deserve it _ .

Suddenly, the fact that your supervisor was gone didn’t seem so lucky after all. Who knew if he hadn’t gotten to her? Who knew he hadn’t encouraged a punishment far worse than being terminated? Who knew he wasn’t going to make your life a living hell?

“Are you alright?” asks the girl across from you. She sounds guilty.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just… Thankful to have left there in one piece.”

She gives an awkward laugh. “Yeah.”

You barely sleep that night, and you’re distracted through your morning duties. Your supervisor is there, but she seems entirely intent on ignoring you. She doesn’t even act annoyed by you as she usually does- you should be grateful for that change in pace. But you just can’t shake the sick feeling that it’s a sign of something much worse to come.

And it’s ridiculous- even if it were, it’s not like you could stop it. Might as well reduce the suffering as much as possible. But your brain seems intent on keeping you panicky all morning long.

“Go get the kit you forgot yesterday.”

The words that come from your supervisor’s lips are strained but nonchalant, and because of that you shouldn’t freeze and blanch the way you do. It’s a solid five seconds before you can speak. “I don’t think Commander Ren would like that very much.”

She glances at you, annoyed. “Commander Ren is preoccupied. From what I gather, he isn’t even in his chambers. Go get the kit you forgot, and while you’re at it, leave a new one with instructions for him. He requested to be left alone, but it wouldn’t do for his wound to become infected.”

You gulp before nodding, grab a new kit, and scurry towards Kylo Ren’s chambers once more.

You knock, just in case, before typing in the code and moving in. The kit is sitting right where you left it, entirely undisturbed. You pack the leftover supplies into it, then groan with the realization that you didn’t bring any paper or pen for instructions. After glancing around the room, you spot a desk in the bedroom with a notepad and a pen beside it, then hurry in.

As you scribble instructions and warnings, you keep becoming distracted by the room around you. The furniture is dark and it’s quite dimly lit, but there is a distinct swanky vibe to the room. The style is masculine, a mix of formal and casual, of industrial and rustic.

You’ve just finished the page and set the full kit down when a mechanical whoosh makes you feel faint. You stand hurriedly and turn just in time to see Kylo Ren standing in the doorway.

His expressions are as intense as ever. At first, it’s predatory- he could sense someone, someone uninvited. Then, it’s surprised-  _ it’s you again _ . Then angry- how dare you return here? Then, almost impressed- you dared to return. It grows impassive then, only moments after he appears, and glances at the kit and the instructions on his desk.

“My supervisor said to leave you instructions,” you breathe feebly. “I didn’t intend to be here when you returned.”

His eyes meet yours for a long moment and you stand there, staring at each other. You’re frozen and he’s immobile, as if waiting you out; a dog watching a cat up a tree, a cat watching a mouse in its whole. “Are you going to stand there all day?” He asks. Again, like yesterday, before you touched him, he isn’t angry or threatening. He seems to just- be terrifying, innately.

“N-no, sir,” you say. You take a tiny step forward, but he doesn’t move from the doorway, doesn’t stop staring at you, and you have no clue what to do. An eternity passes, and your feet begin to ache, and you know your supervisor is growing ever more impatient, and you know you have more duties, and-

“A much better place to stand,” says Kylo. “A lot more fitting.”

“S-sir, I-I-” you swallow. You’d stuttered throughout your childhood, but it had been a long time since it had been so prevalent. “You’re st-standing- th-the door…” You shudder. Your voice is high and shaky.

You regret asking about him more than angering him, now.

You seem to amuse him now, because he leans against the doorframe. “I’m standing the door,” he repeats.

You flush with anger and embarrassment, and now you can’t bring yourself to speak at all for fear he’ll tease you more. If you didn’t know everyone was so afraid of him, you’d be brave enough to have left by now. If you didn’t know he, apparently, had a tendency to kill everything that annoyed him, you’d have been rude and been kicked out again by now. And yet here you were, all but trembling in his bedroom.

He looks down finally, smiling at the ground. Then, he leans further into the doorframe. “Get out,” he says finally.

After a momentary panic you scurry through the small opening, your arm brushing against his, then all but run out of the door. You’re thoughtless until you reach the medbay once more, where relief floods you.

“It certainly took you long enou-” Your supervisor starts, turning towards her. Her face grows strained and she scowls. “Where is the kit?” she asks in a low voice.

_ Damnit! _ You flush and stare at your feet. “I-I left-”

“Go. You’re dismissed.”

“Ma’am-” She scowls your way and you swallow, then slowly turn away, dragging your feet all the way to your bunk.

You could not wait for the day you never had to see Kylo Ren ever again.


	3. Want

“Go get the kits,” is the first thing your supervisor says in the morning.

You have to suppress an audible whine. “Is he gone again?”

“No, I don’t believe he is,” she says in an agitated tone. “Go. Now. Return without them again and you’re terminated.”

Shakily, you make your way to the chambers yet again, knocking to hear no response. Of course. You enter the code-

Nothing. The pad beeps red, indicating a denied entry. You type again, more carefully this time- nothing.

He somehow managed to deny the passcode.

_ Return without them again and you’re terminated _ .

Steeling yourself, clenching your jaw, you somehow work up the nerve to pound on the door incessantly. Your arm and hand ache by the time it begins to open. You drop your arm and try not to look terrified.

Kylo looks awfully annoyed to be disturbed this early in the morning. He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, just stares at you, waiting for a moment.

“I-” you begin.

“Did she send you to sponge bathe me this time?” he asks.

“N-no,” you say. “I j-just- I forgot the kits. I just need the kits.”

His hand moves towards the button to close the door, and in panic, you step forward. You’re stuck in the doorway, though, as he’s standing right behind it, and if he presses the button, you’ll be crushed to death- or worse, you’ll live, and suffer greatly. Thankfully, he turns to give you a look not quite angry, but definitely threatening.

“Please,” you say. “She said I’m terminated if I don’t.”

“Get out of the doorway,” he says plainly.

For some reason- somehow- you’re able to raise your chin in defiance. “No.”

Both of his eyebrows raise, and his hand hits the button. Just in time, you’ve moved forward enough to  _ not _ be caught in it, but unfortunately, you press into Kylo Ren to do so, then lean into the closed door. His large body doesn’t budge, and despite the wound that must still be there, he does not flinch, just stares at you, brows still raised. He’s still close enough that the peaks of your breasts are touching his ribs, but that’s the least of your worries right now. “That was ballsy,” he says.

“I just need the kits,” you say, closing your eyes. “Please, just let me get the kits.”

He inhales sharply through his nose, and it makes you jump slightly. “No.”

You let out a noise of frustration and fear, and he actually smiles at you again. This time-  _ for some god forsaken reason _ \- you can’t help but notice how breathtakingly handsome he is. Because you’re you, of course. “Please- I’ll leave you alone if you just let-”

“No, you won’t. You supervisor will send you back here eventually, and we’ll do this all again. Just leave. Termination might actually benefit you.”

You give a strained laugh. “I have nowhere to go. We’re weeks from the nearest civilized planet. Just- please,” you say, all but begging. It takes everything you have not to wiggle in discomfort and frustration, but now you’re acutely aware of the feeling of his body faintly against yours. He looks at you for a long time, silent, and you look back up at him with pleading eyes. When he doesn’t speak, you let out that flustered noise again. “For fuck’s sake-” you begin in a shaky, high voice.

He laughs again, glances at you with a strange, intense expression, then leans forward. His arms are surrounding you now, your breasts pressed in between your two bodies, but nothing else touches. You stare up at him in shock as he eyes you, so close you smell the faint masculine scent of him and feel the energy of him tantalizing your skin.

_ Holy shit _ .

“What’s in it for me, then?”

You’re silent, not entirely processing this exchange. He’s certainly not- no, he’s just toying with you, being cruel. You stiffen, raising your chin. “Don’t play games with me. Just give me the kits.”

His head tilts to the side, his face solemn, eyes fierce. “Do I look like I’m playing?”

No, he doesn’t. You stiffen more. “What do you  _ want _ , then?”

He seems momentarily impressed by your sudden bravery, then runs a hand down the side of you, slipping his hand into your underwear when you don’t struggle or refuse. He grabs your ass in his hand, staring into your eyes. You’re surprised, and you feel your blood pounding, but you’re no longer afraid, and it’s like he can sense it. “I  _ want _ to fuck you until you cry.”

His words illicit a small gasp, but you swallow and chew your lip. “Fine. Do what you want, then give me what I came for. And if I get in trouble for being late, you better make sure I keep my job.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grins at you wolfishly, and you’re breathless for a single moment before he kisses you hard on the mouth. You respond to his kiss, following his lead; you’ve never kissed before, and you have no clue how to do it properly. He, on the other hand, seems quite expert at it, and it’s relatively easy to follow along, especially as he takes the lead. He crushes you against the cold metal, one hand groping your rear, the other pinning your arms above your head. You’re groaning into his mouth, and before you know it, arousal has washed over you, filled your belly, slickened the skin so close to his rough grip.

He pulls back eventually, leaving you gasping breathlessly against the door, shaken. “Go to the bed. Now.”


	4. Good On His Word

You scurry to the bed, biting your lip, most of your temporary nerve gone. He’s following behind you, and a brief image of him licking his lips like a hungry wolf passes through your mind. He grabs you by the shirt once you reach the bed and yanks it above your head so quickly your head spins; he swivels you around, disorienting you; he shoves you onto the bed and yanks off your pants. Your head is shaky and your breathing is shallow as he kisses slowly up your right leg, massaging your left. It’s a surprisingly intimate moment, especially after the whirlwind you’ve just been through. You stare at him, flushed, as his tongue teases your skin, his hand kneads your calf. He makes his way up your knee, your thigh, your hip, over your entire stomach to your breasts, which he lavishes with a renewed vigor- less lazy and sultry and more hungry and rough. He switches which breast he’s kissing and which he’s kneading, driving you wild as he suckles and nibbles on your hardened peaks.

“Hhoo, stars, yes,” you coo. His intense eyes turn to look up at you, predatory and amused.

It strikes you then- was that what the predatory look had always meant? That he-  _ wanted to fuck you until you cried _ ?

“I wonder,” he mutters against your skin.

He can  _ hear _ you?

He smirks but doesn’t bother responding, just twists and tweaks your nipple, making you moan loudly. Your mind goes blank as he teases you raw, and still he goes on until you nearly whimper for him to stop. Then, he moves up your chest and kisses and suckles on your neck, up your jaw, and kisses you deeply on the lips. He grabs your hands and pins them above your head, then opens your legs beneath him and frees his heady stiffness. You feel his sheer size, the heft of him, against your upper thigh- he’s  _ massive _ , and in shock you wonder how he could possibly fit inside of you.

He nibbles on your ear for a moment. “Here,” he says, tapping his member against your clit. “Let me show you… Unless-” He pulls back and smirks down at you. “How badly do you want your job?” He asks you mockingly. “Not too late to turn back and deal with termination…”

“Show me,” you breathe, at once terrified and exhilarated.

He slams into your wet cunt, driving himself to the hilt with one fluid motion. You gasp loudly, hearing it sizzle out into a long, high-pitched whimper. Your pussy is already sore from being stretched so far, but thankfully- by some precious mercy you’d have never have guessed he’d had- he stays there, waiting for you to adjust, solemnly watching your face with an intense sparkle in his dark eyes. You wriggle and squirm gently beneath him, begging your body to adjust, biting your lip and whining gently. Eventually, it does, and you settle down, even wetter around him- partially from sheer self-preservation, partially because despite yourself, it’s so arousing to have him buried in you, to watch you whimper pitifully on his cock.

He gives a dark smirk before grabbing your hips in his big, strong hands and pulling out slowly, almost all the way. Your cunt relaxes in his wake, only to be stretched open again with another hard thrust. You feel him at your cervix, pressing your insides farther up into your body slightly.

And he’s still a good half inch to being fully inside of you. You wonder if he could force the rest in or not. You wonder how much that would hurt.

You kind of want to try, anyway.

With a deep, taunting chuckle, he continues to thrust in and out of you, slowly at first, then faster, and exactly as hard as you can take. Soon, he’s worked up a rhythm, arms pinning your wrists to the bed, muscular chest stretched above you, raking his eyes across your body, hair damp with sweat and falling into his face.

It hurts so good. So, so,  _ so _ good.

You’re whimpering and gasping, groaning and moaning and whining, whispering semi-coherent pleas for  _ more, sir, more- please _ and the like. He looks downright prideful above you. Over time, the pain turns into a dull soreness that is vastly overshadowed by the pleasure and the intensity. By now, your mouth is agape and your eyes are fluttering, entirely lost to it.

You’re so wet that both of your thighs are splashed with it. You’re drooling. Your eyes are watering. You’re simultaneously torn between wanting to leave in this moment forever and wishing you could reach some foreboding and unknown crux, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Please,” you beg in a foreign, slutty voice. You don’t know what for. “Please, please, please,”

“You want me to fill you, bitch? You want my fucking cum?”

“Yes,” you gasp. You’d forgotten, in your lustful haze, about ejaculate, but now that he’s reminded you, you want it desperately- want him to pump you full of it and leave you panting and quaking in his wake.

He growls in approval, slamming in and out. “Such a dumb, silly little whore.”

“Yes,” you gasp. You’d be anything he wanted if only he were to keep pounding you like this.

It’s only a matter of time before his nails dig into your hips, his breathing hitching. His thrusts come to a crescendo, wild and chaotic. And then you feel it- something bubbling faintly into you, and then much more clearly, something dribbling out from the sides of him. The strange climax you yourself have been working up to strikes then, and your body clenches and your brain spasms and you shudder, crying loudly out, lost in a hellish paradise of pleasure and desperation. He thrusts a few more times as you come back down. You wish he could keep pounding you- but your body is changing, the moment gone, your pleasure spent. He stops and leans back, breathing slowly and deeply, staring in between your spread legs at his seed leaking out of you. Satisfied, he smiles wolfishly at your face- you’re drooling, cheeks and temples wet with tears.

He stands and dresses. “When you’re ready, return the kits, and tell your supervisor that you have been- reassigned.”

You’re too tired to ask about that, so you just nod dumbly and let your eyes close.

He’d made more than good on his word, at least.


End file.
